


Last Christmas

by winterda



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterda/pseuds/winterda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas Eve, and Esme Gold knows that this one is going to be just as miserable as the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> AN: Just a short for an AU idea where Belle spent the past 28 years in an unhappy marriage with Mr. Gold. It’s also kind of a last minute Christmas fic.

It was just getting dark enough for the neighbors to turn on their lights on Christmas Eve when Esme Gold turned down her street. The speed limit was already fairly low due to it being a residential area, but she slowed the car to a near crawl as she drove by admiring the hard work that her neighbors had done to their homes. Some were gaudier than others -- everyone was sure that the three Fry Sisters and Mr. Turk Wright were in competition with one another on who could get the most lights and decorations on their homes without causing a fire hazard -- but nearly every house had at least a few decorations to celebrate the holiday.

Hers didn’t, of course. Nor was there a line of car parked in front of house for a party or extended family hurrying down the sidewalk to make it for Christmas dinner. As far as anyone could tell, it was just another night with nothing special going on at the Golds.

At least he remembered to leave the porch light on for her, she thought as she pulled in behind her husband’s car.

Grabbing her few bags, Esme pulled her coat tightly around her and began walking around to the front of the house. 

She had no delusions that this Christmas was going to be any different from any of the others since she had married Mr. Gold a few years before. They would have a formal dinner (which she always prepared alone) at eight. At nine, he would give her some piece of jewelry that Esme was sure he be bought because of the price and not because he thought she’d like it; he would fake a smile at the gift at her gift and then put away with all the others she had bought him that he never used. Some time around ten her father would call to ask if she were going to go to midnight mass with him, and she’d refuse because spending Christmas with her father wasn’t any better than spending it with her husband. At ten thirty she would kiss her husband on the cheek, wish him a merry Christmas, and then go to bed. Tomorrow would be spent with her hiding away in her room reading, while Mr. Gold locked himself away in his study doing whatever it was that he did in there.

To make it all the worse, it wasn’t even going to snow for Christmas this year. The skies were dark and cloudy; the air was harshly cold. The conditions were right, and most of the rest of Maine had already been blanketed with it for the better part of a month. Yet, there was something about Storybrooke’s location that seemed to just make the snow refuse to fall. 

Perhaps Henry Mills was right after, and the town really was cursed. From what Esme knew about the Mayor, she wasn’t overly fond of snow for some reason.

Adjusting her grip on her shopping bags, Esme walked carefully up the walk to her home. There were small patches of ice here and there, and she found that it and high heels did not work well together. The sensible thing that she should have done that morning would have been to pull on a pair of boots, but she was married to Hamish Gold and Golds, as she had often been told, had to dress a certain way while in public. Comfortable snow boots obviously did not go with their image. 

As she edged around a rather large patch of ice, Esme wondered if leg casts did.

Speaking of Henry, Esme wondered what his birthmother Emma was going to be doing for Christmas this year. She highly doubted that Regina would let Henry spend any sort of time with her for the holiday, even though this would be the first Christmas the pair would get to celebrate together. It was rather sad, really. 

Maybe she would see Emma and perhaps Mary Margret would like to come over tomorrow for lunch tomorrow. At least then maybe they have a little fun on the holiday.

Once reaching the top of the front steps, Esme finally felt comfortable enough to look up from where she was stepping but froze when she did. Hanging in the center of her front door was a rather wreath. It was simplistic: just a circle of garland tied with a bow. Esme had seen dozens of them around town, but the fact that it was hanging from her door was what was really throwing her.

Perhaps Hamish was feeling off again. He had been acting peculiar for the past few months. It was nothing that was overly noticeable; just small things here and there that she noticed just because she was his wife and knew him so well. Usually, it was in the way he did things. There was always a certain amount of calculation in any activity that he participated in, but lately the level had risen. It was almost as if were playing some sort of game that only he knew the rules to, and whatever it was that he was having to do was part of it.

Then, there was the way he would look at her sometimes. Esme never let herself think to much about it, but when she would catch him looking at her like that she could almost pretend -- Well, it didn’t really matter. She was sure it meant nothing.

Yet, there was a wreath on the door.

“I’m back,” Esme said when she entered the house.

A happy yap along with too long nails scrapping against hardwood flooring greeted Esme as the pleasant heat and the smell of something cooking engulfed her. Lady, a little cocker spaniel Esme had literally had to beg Hamish for, affectionately wagged her short tail as Esme stepped into the dinning room. The fact that her husband had left the dog in while she was out was a surprise. 

Having the table set and ready for dinner nearly caused Esme to faint.

“I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I was going to have contact Deputy Swan.”

Esme jumped slightly and twisted on the balls of her feet in time to see Hamish step off the last two stairs. It always amazed her how a man who walked with the aid of a cane could move so quietly. She was sure that he must have been a cat burglar or a magician in another life.

The cane clicked softly as he came to stand beside her. “Of course, that would mean having to disturb her on what is sure to be an alcohol addled Christmas celebration, so you can understand my hesitation on the matter.”

“What’s going on, Hamish?” 

“Christmas, my dear,” he replied. 

“Christmas,” Esme said still unsure if she were hearing him correctly. Most could understand her confusion. After all, the Mr. Gold who everyone knew only put of the pretense of celebrating Christmas, but the Golds didn’t actually celebrate it. Not like normal people did with decorations and surprises and anything resembling cheer. Yet, there was a heavenly scent of food she had not had to cook herself drifting in the air; a wreath on her door; and, now that she was actually looking, garland wrapped around the banister of her stairs. 

She didn’t even know they owned garland.

He smiled, took her bags, and placed them to the side. 

“Yes, Christmas,” he said. “I thought that this year you and I might have a proper celebration.”

Esme asked, “But…why?” 

That something that Esme had seen flicker in his eyes when he looked at her over the past few months crossed his face: sad and maybe a little hopeful.

“Because, my dear,” he said as he barely touched the side of her cheek, “it would make you happy.”

A slow smile spread across Esme’s face. For her. He did this for her.

Covering his hand with her own, Esme held it against her face for a moment longer and then laced her fingers through his. 

Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

\--------------------------


End file.
